Moonlight Serenade
by 0melting.snow0
Summary: He never wanted her to see Stillwater. Gibbs/Abby


**Title: **Moonlight Serenade  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Category:** Character Study  
**Genre:** Gen  
**Character/Pairing:** Abby l Gibbs/Abby

**Beta:**capnhobbesLJ 3 You're just awesome  
**Summary:** He never wanted her to see Stillwater.

**Prompt: **A night at home **ncis_shared** June thing-a-thon**  
Disclaimer:** The characters herein belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended

**Moonlight Serenade**

When she was a kid, she'd always thought in numbers. Prime numbers had always been her favorite ones.

2 – The number of siblings she had.

11 – Her age.

941 – The number of days her dad had been dead.

It kept her mind off things she didn't want to think about. In her head it had always been noisy. The omnipresent sound of spinning wheels, of rushing water, of equations describing the dynamic of quantum mechanical conditions.

For a little girl with such a thirst for knowledge, it was the easiest way to keep her grounded.

She met Gibbs at the age of 19. As a highly skilled freshman in college, she earned her money as a lab assistant at NSI. The first time he stormed into the lab he nearly knocked her over, and that was when she started to think in colors. Drowning in crystal blue didn't leave her much of a choice.

Stillwater, she decided, was yellow. Like dry, dusty desert sand.

Sleep didn't come easy that first night. Her thoughts were spinning again, making her realize that it would never get easier. She missed her noisy lab, the loud music and extreme caffeine. With her moving around, doing things, spinning like an elemental force. Slowly she got up. The omnipresent need for fresh air forced her to get out. Maybe she could calm her curiosity about Gibbs hometown. Just a little bit.

The streets were as silent as the house. Somewhere outside the town a wolf was howling and little granulated stones were crunching under her snow white Mary Jane shoes.

The Salon across the small park area reminded her of the old western movies she used to watch with Tony. Drunken, unwashed guys rested against the wooden walls, watching her – a blade of grass between almost black teeth. At least she thought they were black. She knew some of the people were checking her out. Her crimson red coat was an enigma at a place like this. Her hair was loose – heavy thick curls framing pale white skin. Her hips swayed oftly to the sound in her head. This was thee platitude of her life.

In her imagination everything about this town was a cliché. Like the lone wounded wolf, running away because the reality was than so much more than he was able to bear.

When McGee had told her where the injured Marine came from, she knew they were all moving on thin ice. Like her, fighting against ghosts for ages. She didn't think they'd mind. Fact was _he _kept himself a prisoner of his misery. He wasn't there when they died and he was never able to protect them. In the end he just couldn't put them under a glass dome.

When it came to Gibbs and women it was like he was looking for an ideal nobody could provide. She once asked him one day if he wanted her to come along. She thought she might needed some kind of comfort facing the past but she forgot that she was dealing with a Marine. So all he did was glare her down and mumble that he didn't need her. Right then her world faded to shades of black and worn out grey.

It hadn't been their first fight but it had been the biggest one because it was her first face-to-face conflict with his past. Like she could ever compete against _that. _So she ran away until Tony came and took her along.

Gibbs leant against the counter of his father's kitchen. Nothing had changed. He doubted that in a place like this, there would ever be changes. Sipping on a glass of bourbon he thought of her because she was the only thing real in his life right now.

"This girl isn't made for a place like this, Leroy…Why did you let her come here?"

"I didn't have much of a choice. Even if I had told her to stay away, she'd come anyway." Sighing he floored the glass and refilled it. Talking to his dad had never been easy. They were too much alike.

"She's a pretty one, not a redhead though…"

"Jack!"

"She looks like she's still a child, Leroy. What are you doing? Looking for a counterpoint? Or is it just you being me – having fun?" Jack asked calmly.

"It's just her being Abby and me being me. I'm not going to marry her."

"You love her?"

"I…don't know…" He tried to remember the last night they'd had sex, even though sex wasn't an appropriate word. Not anymore. Making love fitted them better. They'd been in the hammock in his garden. Just kissing, touching, savoring for hours. It was her little whimpers that made him forget _them_ for the first time…ever.

"You know she's gone, don't ya?"

"What are you talking about, Jack?"

"This Abby-girl. She left the house like an hour ago." He was out of the room before Jack was even able to close his mouth.

He found her sitting on a bench – the bench. He struggled for a second, because right than she seemed to be much more fragile than he'd ever imagined possible. Like a porcelain doll, with alabaster white skin, crimson red lips, and jet black hair.

Slowly he sat down next to her, starring stubbornly at the ground. She was trying to stare into his eyes, searching for a smile there. He refused to look at her. While they sat there he was thinking about the time when he pushed her away trying to rationalize why they couldn't be an item. And he thinks about how he had told Shannon once that they would have forever.

Her small hands entwined with his larger ones and he laughed silently at the fact that some things would never change. Finally he looked up and met her eyes. He knew that the sadness buried deep down inside of her was something he was responsible for. Slowly his fingertips traced across her cheek and she smiled at him weakly. After a year in a relationship with Abby he knew that she would never insist on a kissing him. It was out of fear of him backing down.

He cradled her head affectionately in his hands. His thumbs lodged on her cheekbones and his long fingers played slightly with her hair. His lips were sweet, like a blessing, brushing over hers. The kiss quickened, the embrace tightened. His tenderness was moving her to tears. While he held her, he suddenly recognized that this could be the last time he had her in his arms. Why should she hold up with someone like him, a guy unable to love anybody except his dead family?

If love could be bottled like bourbon, he would drink her in because this was it – her loving him like he was the one thing she couldn't live without anymore.

Her life was a rollercoaster. She was a firecracker.

His life was made of burning wood. He was an old man.

Extremes.

Stillwater had shown this to both of them. She was damned for loving him beyond all reasons. When he pulled her closer she came to the conclusion that she could live with the hunting ghosts. His eyes fell to her lips, thinking and she realized that this was him, trying to let go. It wasn't obvious. It wasn't like a force of nature. It was him, taking baby steps.

This was _him_ trying to prove _himself_ wrong.

The End


End file.
